Horseshoes
by Ang D
Summary: This fanfic takes place in the aftermath of  An Extremely Goofy Movie ... Max has to deal with a new houseguest, and he is NOT pleased.
1. Chapter One - The Arrival

_(Author's Note: I've taken a slight liberty with timelines in this fanfic... as I see it, the Goofy Movie took place in Max's junior high years, so all time references will be made as such. Also, the fact that PJ's girlfriend was simply credited as "Beret Girl" in the credits ticked me off, so I gave her a name. Enjoy ... bask in the Bradleyness!)_

Horseshoes - Part One  
By Ang D.

The sound of roaring engines and a cheering crowd filled their ears as they raced, neck and neck, side by side, each one gunning their accelerator for all it was worth. The dust poured thick around them, and the tension was building between the two drivers - until one of them rammed directly into the other, slamming him into the sideboards of the racetrack. 

"I've got you now, man! Ha-HA!" 

"I seriously doubt that, Peej." Max deftly flickered his fingers across the control pad of his Vidtendo 64 and rammed PJ back.

"WHAT?" He squawked, staring in awe as his power meter repleted and his car veered off the track in flames. "Aw MAN! That's the fifth time this morning, Max!!"

"He-heeeey, Maximillian is the champi-onnnnn, the hot tam-a-leeee...." Bobby grinned, slapping his roomate on the back. "Owoooooo!" His gaze strayed to the trophy sitting in the place of honor on Max's desk, the only object not covered in cookie crumbs or stray socks. "And I mean that in duplicate, dude."

"Yeah - we're a shoe-in for the qualifying rounds this year, guys."

"Especially due to the occurence resulting in the ousting of His Bradleyness." PJ said coolly.

"Save the bohemian rhapsody for the Bean Scene, Peej." Max patted his best-friend on the shoulder. "You're scaring people."

PJ shrugged. "Hey, whatever ya say, man." He looked over at the clock and frowned. "Hey, Max, I gotta go pick up some supplies for the new semester, and I was thinkin' of droppin' by that new coffee joint. You comin'?"

Max shook his head. "I've...got a little something I gotta take care of, Peej, you go ahead."

"Bobby?" 

Bobby looked up from the can of Easy Cheese he was shaking and grinned. "Totally with you, dude. I saw this bodaciously hot babe there the other day workin' the counter.... we're talking double chickaccino! Hold the biscott-ay..."

Max shook his head with a chuckle as his friends headed out the door. As soon as he could no longer hear them in the corridor, he picked up the phone, dialing a number that flew through his fingers with less familiarity than it used to. 

"Hello?"

He bit his lip, wincing, then managed to choke out, "Roxanne? ...."

"Who is this?"

_She FORGOT me? .... _"It's uh.... Max."

"Max!" He could almost hear her smile and sighed in relief. "I saw you on tv! That was totally awesome! .... Max, why didn't you ever call me?"

"Well, I ... Since you headed off to that other college in Calisota, I wasn't so sure you'd want to hear from me." He chuckled weakly.

"Oh, no." Roxanne reassured him. "I'd love to see you sometime!"

Max grinned. "Great! Wanna maybe ---"

"Go to that new cafe sometime?"

"Yeah, and then maybe afterwards ---"

"See a movie?"

He laughed. "Exactly! How does --"

"Day after tomorrow sound? Great." She giggled. "Pick me up at one?"

"Okay! See you then!"

"Yep!"

"And..... Roxanne?"

"Yeah, Max?"

He sighed. "I missed you." There was a pause on the other end of the line, and he flinched. 

"Same here. ... Bye, Max."

"Bye..." He hung up the phone and sighed, collapsing backwards onto his bed. "Wow." _She's still got that same voice...._

"Hey, Maxie!!" Goofy called out exuberantly from the hallway. "Wanna go see Sylvia with me?"

Max sat up, fueled with the energy of his upcoming date. _Hey, I can take a day with my Dad. I have a date with Roxanne. I am INVINCIBLE! Nothing can stop me now. _"Sure!" He grinned. "Lemme get my Discman..."

"Aw, I was hopin' we could listen to th' old eight-track." Goofy pouted. "Jest installed it yesterday, yah know."

Max forced a smile. "Eight ... track. Right, dad, cool. That's just groovy...." 

"I thought you'd like it!" Goofy hugged his son fiercely. "C'mon, I dunno what time she gets outta work an' I wanna surprise her." 

Max smiled again, genuinely this time. "That's cool, Dad. ... Why's she working in the summer, again?"

"They got these seminole things the college has in th' summer, an' some of em use th' library." Goofy shrugged. "Least, that's what she said."

"Seminar, dad?"

"Ah thought they were some kinda indian."

Max wiped a hand over his eyes, chuckling as he followed his father outside to the car. 

"Oh Gooooooofyyyyyy!" Peg called from across the fence, waving one of Pistol's t-shirts at them. "Yooohooooo!"

"A-hyuck! Hiya, Peg!" Goofy called, waving back. "Doin' th' laundry?"

"Oh, I swear, Pistol goes through MORE shirts being on the Little League team than anyone I ever--" She stopped short, then hollered towards the house. "PETERRRR!!!! TURN THAT TV OFF AND GET OUT HERE! MOW THIS LAWN BEFORE THE CRAB GRASS BITES MY ANKLES OFF!"

"YES MY LITTLE CHICKEN LIVER..." Pete hollered back simperingly.

"NOW, MUDPIE!" She bellowed, grinning sweetly. "So where are you boys off to?"

"College." Max smiled. "Dad's gonna go see Miss Marpole."

"Ohhhh-hohohoh." Peg giggled. "You simply MUST bring her over for a cookout one of these days!"

"Gawrsh, Peg, that's mighty thoughtful of ya! I'm sure ya'd love Sylvia, you two'd hit it right off." He smiled, ushering Max towards the car. "We gotta go if we're gonna catch her though. See ya later!"

Max chuckled as his father pushed him towards his seat in the Caravan, waving to Peg as she flapped one of Pete's shirts at them in farewell. "Now, Dad, take the right exit this time, okay? It's just West Jefferson, there's no other exit!!!"

"Right, West Jefferson. We ended up clear in th' capital last time! A-hyuck." Goofy nodded, pulling onto the freeway. "Oooohhhh, I gotta loverly bunch o' coconuts..." He sang briefly.

"Dad. Don't .... sing." Max said flatly, turning on the radio. _Roxanne or no Roxanne, this is gonna be a long drive._

Sylvia Marpole sighed as she closed the file folder the dean had given her. "Look, I'm sorry, but I don't know what you expect me to do."

Dean Ponder frowned. "You know more local people than I do. The boy's got no options. He's paid through his senior year, thankfully, but it doesn't cover dorm occupation, doesn't cover the meal plan ... he's got to find some way to fund himself. You're the librarian, you've got resources, connections... you're a wealth of information!"

"Look, I'm sorry, Dean, but there's no way I can find someone! Especially after last semester! Things weren't that bright to begin with."

"You're right. Nobody short of a total GOOF would help us out on this --"

Suddenly, from outside, there came the sound of a loud crash, followed by a distinct, unmistakable screech.

"YAAAAAAAAAAA-HOOHOOHOOHOOOOEY...."

Sylvia nibbled at one fingernail as she looked from the door to the dean to the folder. "Please don't tell me you're thinking of asking him."

"It's a possibility. The boy shares interests."

"Dean, are you BLIND? You saw what happened, and I doubt it would go over well! In fact --"

"Ohhh Syyyyyylviaaaaaaaa!" Goofy warbled, skidding into the library on a skateboard, which he actually managed to stop and kick up expertly. He held out his hand as if to catch it, but the board sailed up into the air and hit Dean Ponder on the toe. "Oopsie."

"Where did you find this board?"

"Outside. Nearly broke muh neck trippin' on it." He smiled sheepishly as Max entered.

"Dad, that skateboard looked a lot like --" He stopped short and grinned. "Hi, Dean Ponder..."

The Dean smiled. "Hello, Max. Sylvia and I were just talking about something we thought your father might take an interest in..."

Sylvia quickly stood, stepping between Max and the Dean. "Max ... you know, they added a small zipper to the halfpipe on the campus.... you might wanna go check it out." 

Max's eyes lit up. "Suh-WEET!" He grinned. "I'll see ya back here, Dad! Bye!" With that, he waved a quick farewell to the dean and zipped out of the library.

"Sylvia..." Goofy said confidentially, "maybe it's th' college de-gree talkin' here, but wasn't that a sure-fire excuse tah get Maxie outta here?"

Sylvia smiled nervously. "You're a father, there's no way I can get anything like that past you. Yes. One of our students ran into some trouble - or should I say his family did - and he's got no place to stay until school starts back up, and no dorm certainty, no steady source of income. We were trying to --"

"Find someone who could help?" Goofy smiled. "I'll do it!"

The dean ran his finger along one of the red lines on the black skateboard in his hands. "You're sure?"

"Positive. Ah always do muh part ta help." He smiled at Sylvia.

"Very well then, Goofy." Sylvia picked up the manila folder at her side and opened it. "The young man's going into his senior year, and he's paid through acedemically, but his father ran into some tax troubles in the Canine Islands, and the family's currently very close to broke."

"Gawrsh." He whispered, frowning. "I wouldn't wish that on muh worst enemy."

"It is horrible. But you don't understand. Those tax troubles had to do with evasion, his father was breaking some serious laws." Sylvia's eyes widened slightly. "I guess it runs in the family." She murmured.

"What?"

"Oh... nothing, I guess. It's just that the boy's been known to break a few campus rules himself, is all. Nothing major - his grades are honest and rather good, it's just that some of the extracurriculars..."

Goofy nodded. "Ya mean he hangs out with some bad eggs?"

"Not anymore, thankfully, but I'm not sure about how he's going to act this year. Will you still do it?"

"Shore!" He smiled. "Of course! Isn't anythin' like spendin' time with the Goof family to brighten up th' old spirit!"

Dean Ponder cleared his throat. "We'll see. I'll go get him." He walked over to the other end of the library, where a figure sat hunched over a book, headphones over his ears and a Discman at his side. The Dean tapped him on the shoulder, then frowned and turned off the CD player. The young man seemed to tense, almost angrily, then relaxed very slowly, letting out a sigh that both observers could hear on the other side of the massive room.

"Kid's takin' it tough." Goofy frowned.

"Not as tough as you'd think." Sylvia muttered, as the Dean, inaudible, explained the situation to the boy seated at the table. His mouth ceased to move, and he regarded the figure tensely.

"Uh oh." Sylvia whispered. 

"WHAT?!!?!?!?!" The boy roared, springing from his chair with such vehemence that it knocked over. He dashed the book he'd been reading angrily to the ground, taking the Discman along with it in an all-out tantrum. "You've GOT to be MESSING with me!!!!!"

Goofy's eyes widened. "Sylvia...." He said quietly, "you didn't tell me it was gonna be him!" 

"Look..." The Dean stuttered, flailing his arms about as the Senior turned in a rage, his shoulders hunched, his thick, dark eyebrows so low on his countenance that his eyes nearly disappeared. "Mr. Upp--"

"YOU NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT HAVING TO DEAL WITH THOSE --- THOSE--- FREAKS!!!" Bradley Uppercrust III screeched at the top of his lungs. "I would sooner take up residence in the BOILER ROOM than accept their so-called gesture of KINDNESS!" He paused in his tirade as he caught sight of Goofy, standing beside Miss Marpole, not quite knowing what to make of it all. Bradley's temper simmered, and he cleared his throat, straightening the collar of his shirt before striding over to them. "Mr. Goof..." He said with as much pleasantry and as sincere a smile as he could muster. "Been a while."

"Shore has." Goofy said plainly. "Been learnin' much?"

More than you'd believe, you old .... "Yeah, actually." The smile went from terse sincerity to flat-out false cameraderie. "Where's Max?"

"He's outside." Sylvia volunteered. "Let's get your things, hm? I'll walk you over to the Gamma House."

Bradley cast a look at the door as if it were Max himself, then sighed. "Hey, whatever." He said, masking his resignation with nonchalance._ I've never had grounds to say it before, but . . . . Life SUCKS. _

Max was in the middle of a flip when he saw the van pull up to the curb beside the boarding court. He coasted slowly down to the center of the halfpipe and kicked up his board, catching it and slinging it over one shoulder. "Hey, Dad." He smiled. "Ready to go?"

Goofy coughed. "Well, not yet, son. I got somethin' else ta take care of, stuff ta pick up."

"What, more of that 70s junk Sylvia's been loaning you?" Max chuckled.

"It isn't junk." He muttered, pulling onto Frat Row. "But, no. There's a ... student who needs lodgin' fer th' summer, an' Sylvia talked me into lettin' him stay with us."

"Oh. That's cool." Max smiled. "Wonder if he boards, we could use a fourth on Team 99..."

"Ya might say he does." Goofy shrugged, as Max caught sight of the skateboard he'd seen in the library, sitting on the floor of the car. 

"Hey - this looks like a Gamma board." Max frowned. "Tank?" 

"He's a nice enough feller, that Tank... but no." Goofy shook his head as he parked by the walkway to the Gamma House, where a stack of boxes and duffel bags was already piled up on the curb. "I guess he's ready. .... Now, Max." Goofy turned to his son as he let the car engine idle. "Ah know that ya might not like sharin' our home with someone else, but th' thing ya gotta understand - this is what Sylvia told me, see - is that he's havin' a tough time with family an' stuff, so..."

"I understand, Dad." Max nodded. "You always did teach me to be accepting of ---"

Just then, the door of the Gamma House was wrenched open, and Tank's immense shadow blotted it out. "An' STAY out, Baby!" He hollered, giving Bradley the drop-kick. He skidded to a halt right in front of the passenger side window.

Max frowned. "Who....?"

Goofy winced. _Ah can't look......_

Slowly, Bradley grabbed ahold of the car's open windowsill and pulled himself up with a groan, wincing. As he opened his eyes, he found he was staring straight at Max, who looked a little too stunned to speak.

"YOU!!" Max hollered at last, shoving Bradley roughly back onto the sidewalk. "How DARE you come crawling to US!!!! You stinking --"

"MAX!" Goofy snapped, taking his son by the shoulder. "Remember. ... "

Bradley picked himself up off the ground once more with a sigh that was part snort. "I didn't exactly choose the outcome either, Freshman."

"That's Sophomore to you!" Max spat. "And you better not try anything!"

Bradley put on his biggest grin."I wouldn't dreeeeam of it." He replied through his teeth, slinging his backpack into the far backseat of the van and jumping in after it.

"Ahem." Goofy said pointedly, gesturing to the pile of boxes and belongings on the lawn. "You brought it. You load it, son."

Bradley's blue-grey eyes darkened as he looked from Goofy to the baggage. "What.... did you say?" WHAT did he call me??

"He said," Max snapped coldly, "that Little Rich Boy has to pull his own weight. And it looks like there's a lot of it, so you'd better get started." As Bradley struggled with a particularly awkward box, Max turned to his father. "Can we go to the Bean Scene before we leave? I wanna say hi to Snaps ... and ditch this SICK feeling in the pit of my stomach."

"No, we ain't got time. .....Now, Maxie. I ain't takin' no guff from Mr. Uppercrust and neither will you. It's jest a roof over his head for a couple'a months is all. He'll hafta find hisself a job, so he won't be botherin' you boys none."

"He'd better not --" Max cut himself off as Bradley heaved a duffel bag into the trunk with an amazing amount of vehemence. "The guys, Dad!!! What the heck am I gonna tell the guys?"

"Well, gee, I dunno." Goofy shrugged. "Ya almost ready ta hit th' open road, Bradley?" He directed a smile over the top of the van.

"Dad? ... You're being civil." Max observed.

"Muh mom always said ya should kill 'em with kindness, Maxie, an' that's jest whut I intend ta do." With that, he buckled himself back in and drummed his fingers patiently on the steering wheel as Bradley loaded the last of the boxes into the van and climbed sullenly into the far backseat of the van. "Welcome aboard. Fasten yer seatbelt."

Bradley folded his arms and stayed put._ I don't have to do a thing you say! _

"Very well, then, if ya end up with scrambled brains it ain't yer fault." Goofy shrugged amiably, as Max turned out of Bradley's sight and snickered. 

"Hey Dad." He handed his father an 8-track cartridge. "Let's put in some music."

"Ah thought ya didn't..." Max waved his hand at his father to shush him, and he took the cartridge, smiling. "Right! Partridge Family it is!"

Max glanced in the rearview just in time to see Bradley wince, and grinned. _For once - I LOVE these road trips!_ He couldn't help laughing as his father tore out of his parking space and careened down the main drag of the campus and out to the main road, leaving their unwelcome guest flailing about and fumbling for his seatbelt.

"You'll get th' upstairs guest room, next to mine." Goofy explained, turning onto the highway. "Ya kin set it up however y'want, it's your room."

Bradley made a grunt of a reply, then fished his Discman out of his bag. One of the batteries had fallen out when he'd swiped it onto the floor of the library, and he didn't seem to have any replacements. Seething, he scrunched down in his seat and put his hands over his ears._ I think I'll just lock the door behind myself and never deal with them EVER...._

The trip was made in silence, save for the strains of the Partridge Family issuing from the 8-track.

"Dad?" Max smiled. "Aren't you gonna sing?"

"Don't feel like it." He replied, glancing in the rear-view mirror. "So ... mind if I ask ya a question?"

"Sure." Max shrugged.

"Not you, Maxie."

Bradley looked up, confused. _What's he trying to pull out of me, here?_ "Hm?"

"If yuh got ousted from th' Gammas, why were ya still stayin' there?"

"Because I was paid through on lodging till the end of the year, and they don't allow switches that late in the semester. THAT's why." Bradley replied testily, folding his arms. 

"Oh. Just wond'rin'."

"Sure." He muttered under his breath, leaning his head against the window as Goofy turned his eyes back from the rear-view and onto the road. The 8-track had thankfully come to an end, or jammed - whichever the case might have been, at least it was quiet, and Bradley closed his eyes with an exhausted sigh. _They woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that of all things. ... _He thought bitterly, as he nodded off into a light sleep, lulled by the sound of the tires on the road.

"We're heeeeere." Goofy pulled into the driveway with a grin, then looked over towards the backseat. 

"He's asleep, Dad." Max snorted. "Didn't you wonder why we weren't hearing any sardonic comments? .... Poor Little Rich Boy probably tired himself out from lifting his own boxes, hah."

"Now, Max..."

"Dad! How can you Now, Max me??? You KNOW what he did to us! You know how he tried to keep the team from winning!" Max paused, then added the thing that was sure to convince his father that he was in the right. "He tried to keep us apart, Dad."

Goofy frowned, getting out of the van and looking through the window at the sleeping ex-rival in the backseat of his car. "Well.... Ya got some good points, there, Maxie. And I don't blame ya fer bein' sore. But...." He heaved a sigh. "Ah still don't understand some things, Max."

"What do you mean?"

"He looks a lot more ... tolerable ... that way." Goofy gestured to the sleeping form with a half-smile. 

"Dad, homicidal maniacs look sweet when they're asleep. But you watch, he's gonna wake up and make a fuss because he drooled all over his sweater. ... I bet he drools. Maybe I should set up a camera in his room and sell the videos as blackmail. 'Bradley Uppercrust III: Embarrassing Drooly Footage'. Yeah." Max grinned.

"But hey - what if he does the same thing and finds Old Stuffed Bear, huh?" Goofy smirked.

"Daaaaaaaaaad!" Max thwacked his father on the arm. "No WAY, I do not sleep with a dumb old stuffed bear."

"Whatever you say, Maxie." Goofy allowed himself a smile as he slid open the back door of the van and leant over, tapping Bradley on the shoulder. "Bradley." He said quietly, smiling. "We're here."

Bradley rubbed at his eyes with a number of sleepy, disoriented sounds. "Huh? Wha? Mmph. ...." He blinked, then let out a screech as his surroundings came into focus. "AAAH!" And here I thought it was all some nightmare!! Swiftly, he regained his cool. "Ah. Mr. Goof. You startled me."

"Obviously, a-hyuck." He smiled. "C'mon, I'll show ya to yer room." With that, he headed up the driveway to the porch. "Maxie ... you wanna go give our neighbors a shout, huh?"

"You mean a warning." He muttered. "Yeah, Dad, I think I will." He directed a smirk in Bradley's direction, as he tried to pull a plastic storage bin out of the van. It slipped from his hands and fell, its contents spilling out onto the blacktop. "Have fun... Braaaad."

Brad grinned back at him, malice flashing in his eyes as he gathered up the fallen articles. "Will do .... Maxie."

Goofy sighed as he unlocked the front door. "C'mon in. Up th' stairs an' to th' right... second door. I'll let ya get it done yerself."

Bradley practically flew up the stairs and into the designated guest room, flinging his backpack and the storage bin onto the bed angrily, then slamming the door behind him. "Trapped in a house of GOOFS!" He shrieked, pounding at his pillow with almost inhuman vehemence. "If I can't make MY life normal ... then I'll make theirs --"

"Hel-LO?" Goofy knocked on the door. "You've still got bags down here."

"Yeah? Hire a valet."

"Bradley, you know we discussed this."

"We didn't discuss ANYTHING!" He hollered back. "And I'll get to it when I FEEL like it, got that?Just go do whatever it is you freaks do in your spare time!"

"Bradley - it ain't muh fault yer here." Goofy ventured.

"Well it isn't MINE EITHER!!! So just SHUT UP!!!!" He hollered, throwing a pillow at the door.

"Son, listen --"

"AND I AM NOT YOUR SON!!!!!! I would KILL myself if I were even REMOTELY related to you OR your son!!!" Bradley erupted, seething. "So just LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!"

Goofy stood there in front of the closed door, frowning. Max's words from just a month earlier echoed in his head. "Get your own life!" He winced. "Okay, Bradley, but ya gotta come down fer dinner sooner or later. .... Maybe if we're lucky, you'll find yer focus before then." He said pointedly, then started to head down the stairs. As he started down, his foot caught on a sweater that had fallen out of Bradley's bag, and he tripped, tumbling head over feet down the staircase. 

Bradley smiled at the sound of Goofy's hollering and started to unpack his bag, muttering pseudo-obscenities to himself. I don't know how much of this I can stand, but if I take them down with me, at least it'll be halfway worth it. He paused. "I'm dizzy from your downward spiiiralll..." Bradley flinched at the memory. He'd show them all that Bradley Uppercrust III was not one to be mocked - especially when he was down on his luck and stuck in the epitomy of all nightmares.

"Hey, Max!" PJ smiled, waving to him from the far side of the backyard. "Wanna come help me fix my bike? Chainsaw attacked my front tire the other day. Stupid mutt."

Max looked over at the remains of the tire on the grass. "Ugh, tough luck, Peej. Lucky you keep a spare."

"Tell me about it." He sighed, handing Max the fresh tire. "So how was your trip over to State?"

Max shrugged, delaying the inevitable. "They put in a zipper pipe."

"COOOOOOL!" PJ grinned. "Wow, Bobby's gonna LOVE that! ... Anything else new? Did they have booklists yet?"

"Peej, school just got out two weeks ago, for cryin' out loud." Max laughed, helping him put the new tire back on the bike. "But, yeah, there were some new developments." He cleared his throat.

"You got that look, man. What's up? ..... I saw some stuff in the van a second ago. Sylvia movin' in?" 

"I wish it were that cool, Peej."

PJ set down his socket wrench. "Huh?"

Max sighed heavily, then muttered, "We have a houseguest for the summer."

"Oh. I thought you said Sylvia wasn't moving in."

"It isn't Sylvia, PJ!!!!" Max spluttered. "It's.... well. First let me say it wasn't MY decision."

PJ frowned. "Your dad? .... I hear ya, man. Who is it?"

"Well..."

"Max!" Goofy called over the fence. "You'd better come help me set th' table.... Mr. Uppercrust isn't exactly being cooperative! .... Oh. Hiya, PJ..." He smiled.

"WHAT?" PJ blurted. "BRADLEY UPPERCRUST THE THIRD is staying at YOUR house, Max?!!?"

He kicked at the grass, feeling his face start to flush. "Yeah..."

"WHY, man?"

"His dad's broke and he's homeless." Max smiled maliciously.

"MaxiMILLian, that is NOT what Sylvia said!!" Goofy scolded him. "She said that his dad ran into some trouble an' he jest needs a place fer th' summer an' a job." He paused. "An' after dinner, I'm'a gonna go ask Pete if Bradley kin work at th' lot."

PJ snickered. "Bradley? Work with my Pop? ... Aw, that's funny. You do that, Mr. G." He winked at Max, who stifled a laugh of his own.

"There ain't nuthin' wrong with workin' on a used car lot." Goofy chided them obliviously, as he headed for the front door of Pete's house. "You go set th' table, Maxie."

"Okay. I don't suppose you wanna come, Peej." Max sighed, glancing over the fence to see Bradley taking the last of his things out of the van. "We'll head over in a second, once Mr. Underbite is back in his room."

"Underbite, that's a good one, Max." PJ snickered. "Where'd ya hear that?"

"Snaps."

"Oh, my little Java Bean." PJ smiled. "She's awesome, isn't she?"

"Yeah, Peej, she's pretty cool, but not as cool as Roxanne."

"Roxanne? You seein' her again, man?"

Max grinned as they headed into the house. "Yep! We're goin' to the movies day after tomorrow. At least I can get out of the house and away from that... that... " He growled. "I can't even finish my sentances, I'm so mad."

"No mere utterance can express the deep and sombre revulsionary hatred one can harbor in the darkest depths of the heart for such a callous and despicable individual." PJ said, placing a hand poetically to his chest.

"Say what?"

"I hate him too, man."

Max laughed as they headed into the kitchen, only to see a pair of khaki pants sticking out from behind the open refrigerator door. "Hey Brad." Max said sourly. "We're eating soon." 

Bradley didn't even bother looking over his shoulder at Max as he stood, kicking the door closed with one foot and carrying a plate of something and a brown bottle of root beer up the stairs. "You are. I'm eating now, Sophomore. Live with it." 

Max opened his mouth to say something, but PJ tapped his shoulder as Bradley disappeared around the corner. "Save it, Max, he isn't worth your breath."

"Good point, Peej. Thanks." With that, Max delved into the refrigerator. "You stayin' for dinner?"

"Naw, mom's makin' that chicken casserole stuff with the soup." PJ replied. "I love that."

"PJ..." Max stuck his head up over the door. "You love any food, man."

"Hey! Not any food." PJ said defensively. "I hate asparagus."

"Oh, pfft. Asparagus. Yeah, you hate one thing, Peej, I stand corrected." Max chuckled. "What th'--- Aw man!"

"What?"

"He took the leftover potato salad! We were gonna have that with the sandwiches."

"You have sandwiches for dinner?"

"Shopping day tomorrow." Max shrugged. "I happen to like sandwiches. But I like them better with my POTATO SALAD!!!" He hollered towards the ceiling. "So, I'll see you tomorrow, huh Peej?"

"Yeah, probably.... what time you wanna meet at the park, Max?" PJ poked his nose into the fridge curiously.

"I dunno." He shrugged. "Ten?"

"Max, I'm stayin' up late tonight to watch that special broadcast wrestlin' match on Pay Per View with Pistol and my dad. I'd say more like... two."

"Get OUT!" Max grinned. "The one with the Manassas Mauler and the Boulder?"

PJ nodded proudly. "Yup."

"Aw, man, I hate you." Max laughed. "Go eat your casserole."

PJ glared. "FINE, then." He snapped mockingly. "I was gonna tape it for you."

"Really, Peej? Whoa, THANKS!" Max grinned, slapping his pal on the back. "Thanks a quadzillion!"

"Hey, no problem, man." PJ shrugged. "I just need a blank tape."

"Blank --- awwwwwwww CRUD!"

"What?"

"Dad keeps all our spare stuff in the... guest room." Max growled.

"TerRIFfic." PJ rolled his eyes, as Max started out of the room. "Guess ya might as well, huh?"

Max nodded, then headed upstairs, pounding on Bradley's door. "Oh Braaaaaaaaaaaaddyyyy...."

"What IS it, Sophomore?" He snapped, his mouth partially full.

"I need something out of the closet."

He swallowed loudly. "Sorry. I don't want my room contaminated by GOOF germs. ... By the way, your old man may not be the smartest amoeba in the world, but he makes good potato salad."

"Amoeba?" Max snorted. _He called my dad an AMOEBA. Okay, so there's times I'd agree, but this is DIFFERENT.... _"Ok, Bradley Stuffed Crust, that DOES it." He growled, kicking at the door so savagely that it swung open. "I'm getting it mySELF." He shoved open the closet doors and began rummaging, until he found the tape he was looking for. "Hey Peej, CATCH." He tossed the tape out the door, where it skidded across the carpet and landed at PJ's feet.

"So, you brought the Large One with you as backup, eh?" Bradley smirked. "Didn't think you could handle breaking into a man's room by yourself?"

"You're no man." Max growled.

"Excuse me?" Bradley snorted. "I'm more of a man than you'd ever DREAM of being, Sophomore." He paused, then held up an old, tattered album. "After all -- real men don't go to Lester's Possum Park."

Max whipped the book out of Bradley's hands. Sure enough, in the back pages, crammed to fit, were pictures of him and his father at Lester's Possum Park, at least five years ago. "Where did you find this? You have NO right to our personal property!!"

Bradley shrugged. "It was here, in my room, so that would technically make it myyyy personal property, wouldn't it? Oh, wait till the rest of the Spooner Staters see this one on the bulletin boards... Know where there's a cheap copy service around here, Maxie?"

"I could tell the whole student body you drool in your sleep."

Bradley looked nonplussed. "And I could tell the whole student body that your father just has that relationship with the librarian to keep your grades up.... IF you know what I mean."

Max stared at Bradley in utter disgust. _He can mess with me all he wants, but if he messes with my Dad, and SYLVIA to boot.... _"You're SICK." He snarled, slapping Bradley across the face as hard as he could.

Bradley touched a finger to the corner of his mouth and sneered. "Why, you..." He murmured angrily, then punched Max clear in the jaw. He reeled back a few paces, then recovered and lunged at Bradley.

"Aw man." PJ frowned, slinking off down the stairs with the blank tape to find Goofy standing by the refrigerator, fishing out a cutting board. "Mr. G!!!! You better get upstairs!"

"Whut's goin' on, PJ?"

"Max and Bradley...."

"Say n'more, son. Go get yer pop...." With that, Goofy rolled up his sleeves and stormed up the stairs, heart-covered apron and all. He rounded the corner to find the two boys going after each other like a pair of wild animals, taking any shot they could get. "MAX!" He yelped.

"Not NOW, Dad." Max managed to blurt before kicking Bradley in the shin. 

Goofy frowned, then adapted as stern a look as a worried father could muster. "BRADLEY!"

"SHUT UP!!!!" He snarled, grabbing hold of Max' ears and attempting to tie them around his head.

The dogfight came to a slow halt as the level of light in the room seemed to diminish, blocked out by a very large shadow. Max was the first to stop fighting, still keeping his hold on Bradley's wrist. Bradley smacked Max's hand aside, then looked at the large pair of feet in the doorway. His gaze traveled upwards, and he gulped as discreetly as he could, looking at the newcomer through one eye, the other squeezed shut and beginning to turn black.

"What th' cramfrattin fritterfrash is goin' ON here?" Pete barked, storming into the room and hauling the two boys apart by their collars. Even Bradley dangled a couple of inches above the floor.

"Mr. P, he called Dad an amoeba." Max snarled, rubbing at his arm.

"He invaded my privacy, he asked for it!" Bradley snapped. Pete shot him a glare. "Sir."

Behind Goofy, PJ stifled a snicker.

"Now, look, I don't want no employee o' mine showin' up ta sell honest cars with a black eye an' a busted lip. People might think he was a liar an' a cheat." Pete growled, shoving Bradley to the floor. "So you skedaddle over t' my house an' have Peg put a piece o' sirloin on that there eye. As for you, Maximillian... " He set Max down on the floor, then led Bradley out the door. "I don' see why yer father couldn't'a handled that."

Bradley directed a smirk over his shoulder at Max as the two of them left, and it took both Goofy and PJ to keep him from dashing after Bradley and giving him a matching set of eyes.

"So." Pete rumbled, as Bradley followed him across the yard towards the house, "You got in a pretty good scrap with that Goof kid. You got spunk." He slapped Bradley on the back, causing him to stagger slightly. "Why don't you stay fer dinner?"

Bradley looked up at him, touching a hand carefully to his black eye. "I, uh... maybe."

"Okay, son, your choice."

"Look, DON'T call me son, okay? I'm getting really sick of it." Bradley snapped. "Call me Bradley. Bradley Uppercrust the Third." Pete stared down at him indignantly, then he added, "And not BRAD either, got it?"

"You certainly are a bossy little upstart." Pete observed, pushing open the door as a group of summer rainclouds started to creep in over Spoonerville. "You git on in there an' go straight back from the door into th' kitchen an' Peg'll set you up with somethin' fer that eye." He ordered. "Then, we talk."

Bradley shrugged, choosing to ignore the fact that he was just called "little", let alone bossy and an upstart, and headed towards the yellow light of the kitchen, rubbing at his cheek. He stumbled slightly, knocking against a side table as he approached the doorway.

"PJ," a voice snapped, "I thought I told you to watch out for that -- " She rounded the corner and gasped. "My goodness! You poor young man!" Peg paused and screwed up her face in confusion. "Who are you, anyway....?" The confusion turned to a scowl. "And what are you doing in my house? Are you one of those bandits that thinks they can just waltz right in and ---"  
Bradley heaved a sigh. "I'm Bradley Uppercrust the Third - apparently your husband's new employee." He said wearily, cutting her off.

"Oh! ... Well, then!" Peg smiled, grabbing a paper towel and daubing at the corner of Bradley's mouth. "I'm terribly sorry about that bandit thing. One never can be too careful. My goodness, it's a good thing you stopped me, I was about to go for the frying pan!" She giggled, then scowled again, leaning out the doorway of the kitchen. "PETERRRRR! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME WE HAD COMPANY???"

"I --"

"Never MIND!" Peg turned her attention back to Bradley, steering him over to the kitchen table and into a chair. "You sit right there, young man. ... And you tell me what happened! ... Knowing Pete's taste, it's something grandiose." She muttered, digging in the refrigerator.

"Well --" Bradley began, rubbing at his eye, "I --"

"DON'T TOUCH THAT!" Peg bellowed, rushing over and yanking his hand away. Promptly, she smacked a piece of some sort of meat onto his eye. 

"YEOWCH!"

"Keep that there. ... Now, come on, speak up, what happened?"

Bradley coughed. "I'm staying with your neighbors for the summer, and let's just say Max and I don't get along."

"Aha." Peg nodded. "... What did you do to Max to deserve that?"

"He's the one that came into my room when I told him not to!"

"You must have done something."

"I retalliated verbally."

Peg pulled another paper towel off the roll. "You mean you insulted him." She said flatly, unimpressed. "No wonder my husband hired you, you've got a big mouth just like his." 

_Yours, too, lady. _"Look, I don't need the running commentary, it's been a rough day."

"Running commentary?!? Well don't we think we're something." Peg sassed, handing him a glass of ginger ale. "Drink that. Knowing fistfights, I'll bet you got socked in the stomach."

Bradley grunted in reply and downed the glass with the speed and accuracy of a fraternity brother. He set down the glass and burped slightly. "Scuse me."

"Well, at least you have more manners than my husband." Peg noted, taking the glass. "You must be in college, I've never seen anyone from a different walk of life drink that fast. A-hahahaha."

"Amazing observation, Holmes." Bradley said sullenly, picking at the fringe on the tablecloth.

"Are you keeping that steak on there?" Peg asked, checking the casserole in the oven. "This reminds me, Peter had BETTER have invited you to eat with us. Have you eaten over at Goofy's?" She paused. "Wait. The last time Goofy decided to cook anything .... well ... you'd better have something here anyway. ... So why are you staying with them?"

Bradley groaned, trying to ignore the revulsion that crept into his stomach as the fact of the matter sunk in - he was sitting at a psycho woman's kitchen table with a piece of raw meat on his face, beaten to a pulp by his archrival, and on top of it all, the psycho was trying to get him to divulge the most humiliating information of his life. _That, and maybe I shouldn't have chugged all that ginger ale at once...._

"You really don't look well." Peg frowned. "You can go lie down on the couch if you'd like."

"Really, I'm fine." Bradley said, trying to keep from putting a hand to his stomach or his aching head, both of which hurt worse than taking a dive off the top of a halfpipe. 

"I'll get you some aspirin. You bleeding anywhere else?" 

_My EGO... _"No, don' think so, but thanks .... uh ..." 

"Peg." She smiled, taking the casserole out of the oven. "You can call me Peg. And what was your name again?" 

"Bradley."

"Right. Bradley somethingorother the seventh, right?"

"Uppercrust III." He finished, wincing. 

"Oh! ..." Peg blinked. "I know that name from somewhere.... Uppercrust. On TV somewhere."

"I was in the College X Games." He ventured.

"No, that's PJ's thing. ... It was the news, or something." Peg shrugged. "Oh well, I'll remember it in the middle of the night and promptly forget it by breakfast. That's the way it goes." She popped open a king-sized bottle of aspirin and handed four to Bradley. "Take those." She said, handing him a small glass of water. "And you'd better sip that water, or else."

He nodded wearily. "Yuh huh." _Whatever's in that dish, it smells good. ... Maybe I'll stay. But there's gotta be a better cure for a black eye than sticking a piece of meat on my face. _He paused and lifted it up. _Ooh. Filet mignon. At least it's expensive steak._

"So?" Peg cut off Bradley's musings. "Are you staying?"

"Well..."

"Hey mom! We gotta extra ice pack hangin' around here somewhere??" PJ called out, careening into the kitchen. He stopped short as he caught sight of Bradley, then burst out laughing. "Aw MAN! What I wouldn't give for a CAMERA!"

Bradley glared at him with his good eye. "Shut up."

Peg blinked. "PJ, what's going on here?"

"He tried to kill Max!"

"I did NOT, that little creep smacked me first!" Bradley shot to his feet.

"Yeah," PJ snorted, glaring up at him, "and you deserved it!!" 

"BOYS!!!" Peg hollered, stepping between them. "I want the whole story and I want it now. You first, PJ."

"Well, Bradley took Max's potato salad and..."

"I mean the _whole _story, Peter Junior."

"Moooommmmm!" PJ whined, casting a sideways glance at Bradley, who was snickering. "Didja hafta ..."

"NOW. From soup to nuts. Both of you."

Bradley removed the filet from his eye just long enough to raise an eyebrow at Peg. "From square one, huh? Well, I'm the ... " He paused. "I was the head member of the top X Games team in Spoonerville State..."

"Yeah. Was." PJ smirked. "This much of the story, Mom? Are you serious?"

Peg nodded. "You boys can help me set the table, meanwhile... go on, Brinkley."

"Bradley." He sighed, grabbing a handful of napkins and setting them out as he continued his side of the story.

Peg listened attentively as both boys recounted their versions of the tale, being careful not to let them handle cutlery during the more heated points in the chronology. By the time both PJ and Bradley had presented their sides, the table was set. Peg wriggled her hands into her oven mitts as she looked at them both, as would a judge presiding over a case.

"Well." She said at last, lifting the massive casserole dish and carrying it over to the table, "I think I understand the problem now. And I do believe I have the perfect solution." Setting the dish down decisively, she strode back to the other end of the kitchen, retrieving an ice pack from the freezer and handing it to her son. "PJ, I want you to take this to Max and tell him three things.... One. Mr. Uppercrust here is going to stay for dinner, so they can both get some time to calm down after that little ... skirmish. Two. Bradley is going to give him a lengthy, sincere apology upon his return, which should be no later than nine o'clock." She smiled. "I know you don't want to miss that ... spectacle of male chauvanism that you and your father adore so much."

"Awriiiiight!" PJ grinned. 

"Wait a minute. Did you say... apology?" Bradley said slowly, setting the filet mignon down on the cutting board and checking his eye in the reflective surface of the toaster. 

"Don't touch it!" Peg scolded him. ''And yes, I did."

"WHAT????" Bradley whirled around to face her, good and black eye both wide with indignance. "There is NO way in HE--"

"You'll DO it," Peg snapped, "or NO chicken casserole, and NO first aid." She gestured to him generally, and he sighed resignedly. "That's better."

"Three?" PJ reminded her hesitantly, kneading the ice pack in his hands.

"Ah, YES." Peg smiled cheerfully. "Can't forget that, oh, nononono. Three: Tell Max.... to get himself another one of those yellow and blue jerseys. And if Peter's petty cash box won't cover both that and a matching helmet, I've got some spray paint. .... Oh! I forgot to ask. Bradley, what size are you?"

Both boys stared at Peg in disbelief. "Uhhhh...... medium." Bradley croaked.

"Size medium jersey, then." She nodded decisively, pulling off the oven mitts. "I think the only thing that will help this summer along is if you boys learn to work together. ..... And I don't think that's the only thing you'd end up learning from each other, either." She smiled wryly. 

"Babababababut MOM!" PJ stuttered.

"DO IT!!!!"

"Yes, ma'am." He sighed. "But don't be surprised if Max and Bobby kill me tomorrow. ... After all - no sun shines favorably upon the winged messenger of unfavorable tidings...." 

"Dear," Peg smiled, hugging him, "you'll be fine. And have I mentioned that I adore what your English major is doing for your vocabulary? Marvelous. Now, run along, dinner will wait...."

PJ nodded, casting a slight but suspicious glance over his shoulder at Bradley. _He's GOTTA be brainwashing my mom. .... And the TEAM! .... Oh, man. I just KNOW he'll do whatever he can to ruin everything!_

Bradley glowered at PJ as he retreated, then looked over at Peg, who was draining a pot of mixed vegetables into a large ceramic bowl. _This woman is nuts_, he decided. _Putting me in a team of SOPHOMORES! .... But..... hold the phone and pass the directory! This could just be my chance to... _He smiled slowly. _Yes. Yes..... it's perfect. He paused. However, I have a feeling that tonight's dessert menu will consist of feet, words, and a generous slice of humble pie. Nothing like a glass of some mock sincerity to wash it all down...._ With that, he began to rehearse the perfect apology in his head. "Oh, Mrs. P? ... Can I help you with anything else?" He smiled sweetly. _This is going to be RICH._

"He said what?" Goofy frowned, moving an icepack from Max's knee to his shoulder. 

Max groaned. "He said he was gonna spread rumors about you and Sylvia. That's when I lost it."

"That's just low. An' there ain't nuthin' wrong with Lester's Possum Park." Goofy sulked, handing Max a glass of soda. "Is there."

"Uh... no, Dad." Max smiled._ It wasn't THAT bad for a tourist trap, in hindsight. I guess_. "So how long d'you think Bradley will hide out next door? ... I feel bad for PJ."

"I dunno." Goofy shrugged. "I really am sorry he's bein' such a pest, Maxie."

"Dad..." Max frowned, checking his shoulder and moving the icepack back to his knee, "you should have said no."

"I didn't know who it was, Max." Goofy repeated. "Ah keep tellin' you that. Now eat yer sammich."

Max picked up his sandwich halfheartedly. "I'm really not hungry, Dad. The guys and I will probably get something tomorrow at the park... "

Goofy smiled encouragingly and pushed the plate towards him. "C'mon. Y'need yer three squares."

"Dad..."

"Maxie. Please eat. Don' be mad at me." Goofy sighed.

"Dad..."

"I'm serious, Max."

"DAD!" Max spluttered, flailing his arms. "Calm DOWN! All I said was I wasn't hungry, okay? It isn't you I'm angry at, it's that ... that ... "

"Bradley." Goofy nodded, taking a bite out of his peanut butter and pickle sandwich as PJ sailed into the door. 

"Gotcha another ice pack, man." PJ announced, setting it down on Max's knee. "Also - messages from my Mom." He winced. "You won't believe it."

"After today, I could believe anything...."

"I seriously doubt that, Max. ... Okay, first of all, Bradley's stayin' for dinner, he'll be back by nine... Mom said you guys need space. I'm a bit more concerned about mine, but... hey."

Max nodded. "No offense taken, Peej.... Next message?"

"He's gonna apologize when he gets back."

Max blinked. "I bet your mom's ... convincing him of that right now."

"Yeah, s'what I thought too. ... But you'll never believe the last thing in a million years, Max.... she says... well...."

"What?"

PJ chuckled nervously. "She says......"

"Spit it out, Peej!!"

"ShesaysthatweshouldmakeBradleyapartoftheteamforthisseasonandyouneedtogethimsomegear." PJ blurted. "Size medium."

"All I caught was Bradley, team, gear, and size medium, PJ," Goofy scratched his head. "Can ya repeat that?"

Max stared at his friend in disbelief. "You're totally kidding me." He finally muttered, still not focusing his eyes.

"No way, would I kid about that?"

"Oh, geez. What the heck are we gonna tell Bobby?" Max moaned. "I guess, if your mom's got it in her head that it's a good idea, we'd better do it. ...."

"Peg shore is a fine planner." Goofy agreed. "Can't change her mind on nuthin'. Looks like we better, uh ... what're we doin' again?"

"Making Bradley a part of the team." Max mumbled through his hands. "And why are we doing this again?"

PJ sighed. "She thinks it'd help us ... get along or something, I dunno. I just have this feeling it's gonna make it worse...."

Max frowned. "We'd better keep a really close eye. Make sure he doesn't try and contact the Gammas or something, tell them what we're up to."

PJ nodded. "Yeah. I say if he distracts from our concentration or our performance too much, he's out."

"Good plan. I'll call Bobby and break it as easy as I can. You go eat your ... whatever it is, and don't let Towel Boy give you indigestion by running his mouth off all night! .... We'll keep him under control, don't worry, Peej." He held out a hand. "Do it to it?"

PJ smiled, giving his best-friend a high five. "Do it to it, man. See you tomorrow. And I want a transcript of that apology, dude."

"Are you kidding?" Max laughed. "I'm tape-recording it!!"


	2. Chapter Two - The Problem

_Author's Note: This is the second part of Horseshoes, yes. But it may also be the final part. I *do* have a lot more in store for the Goof Troop gang, but I have too many other projects on my hands right now, between fic and novels and other things. Someday when I have time, I'll probably write more. Yet, for now, I hope you enjoy what's here._

__

"...So, son, alls ya gotta do is tell the people it's a great car really wonderful thing they really oughta buy it so whaddaya say, and boom. Sold." Pete rambled through a semi-full mouth of mashed potatoes.

Bradley coughed lightly, turning his eyes back to his own empty plate. "That's ... good to know."

"You're done already?" Peg smiled. "Here, have some more." She plopped a ladle-full of mashed potatoes down on Bradley's plate, followed by another large portion of chicken casserole, as PJ entered the kitchen and sat down as far away from their houseguest as possible. "PJ! Good, here, have some food." Peg smiled. "PJ?"

PJ said nothing, watching Bradley intently as one would a mosquito. 

"EAT." Peg commanded, waving her hand sharply in front of his face. As PJ jolted his attention back to the dinner table, Peg whispered, "And don't you worry about him."

"MOOOOOMmomomomomomomomomomomomMOM!" A voice called out, as a blur of fuschia and white with a long red ponytail flew into the kitchen and lighted in the chair next to Bradley. "We won the gaaaame! And I caught a really wicked fly ball and you shoulda seen it and. ... who's THAT?" The girl looked over at Bradley and cocked her head, eyes shining curiously despite the dirt on her face. "Are you an exchange student? We have an exchange student in our class. His name is Abu Ranamahaneepotamandomarakesh or something like that." She smiled. 

Bradley wiped his mouth on his napkin. "Bradley Uppercrust III." He said blandly, regarding her with the amount of respect and fear due to such a hyperactive child.

"Oh, well, that's not all that foreign. You must be British." She shrugged. "Hey PJ, pass the gravy."

"Pistol," Peg said calmly, serving her up some casserole, "Bradley is staying with Goofy and Max for the summer, but he's from right here in Spoonerville like us. .... Bradley, this is my daughter, Pistol. She just got back from her Little League game." 

"Aaaa-ha." Bradley nodded slowly, as Pistol began feeding her face. "Nice to meet you.... I think."

Pistol stopped abruptly. "Wait a second." She said through a mouthful of peas. 

"PISTOL PENELOPE! SWALLOW THAT!" Peg commanded.

Pistol gulped. "I know you." She continued, not skipping a beat. "You're that sleazeball no-good Gamma JERKface that blasted PJ into the stratosphericalism!" She glared at him, then stood, moving her plate and going to sit beside PJ. "I can't believe I'm eating the same food as a jerk."

Peg gasped, staring at her daughter in disbelief. "Pistol! He's a houseguest, and you'll treat him nicely."

"Mom, I'm not a kid anymore, I'm a whole ten and a half years old." Pistol sulked.

"That doesn't make any difference. Now apologize to Mr. Uppercrust."

"Sorry Mr. Uppercut." Pistol mumbled, picking at her dinner. PJ smirked, leaning over and whispering something to Pistol. She giggled. "Does he really?" PJ nodded, sending Pistol into yet another fit of giggles. 

Bradley slowly pushed his plate towards the center of the table and stood. "Well, Mrs. P, I really should get going. Big day tomorrow. ... Nine, right?"

Pete nodded. "Yessiree Bob. On the dot, bright and sharp."

Bradley nodded slowly. "Uhhhh huh."

"Now, Peter, you're letting him go early, aren't you? PJ, what time is your practice?"

"Two..."

"Let him go at two, then."

Pete frowned. "I hired that boy for an eight hour workday and I --" Peg glared at him, folding her arms. "Yes, Peach Pit."

"That's better, Muffin Nose." Peg smiled, pinching his cheeks. "You have a good night, now, Bradley. And don't forget what I told you!!!" She finished, an edge to her voice.

"Riiiight." He pointed a finger at him with a wink and a cluck of his tongue. "Gotcha. Thanks for the dinner. It was great." He flashed his most winning smile at Peg, nodded to Pete, then let his gaze wander to Pistol and PJ. "See you tomorrow, PJ." He said sincerely. "It was nice meeting you, Pistol." With that, he made one last check of his eye in the reflection of the toaster and headed out of the kitchen.

As soon as Bradley was gone, PJ looked over at his mother. "Mom, I gotta make a phone call. I'll be back, ok?"

Peg blinked. "Okay, sweetie. But don't take too long."

"Right." PJ sped upstairs to his room, dived onto his bed and picked up the phone, dialing a number he'd only recently learnt by heart. "Come on. Pick up."

_"Greetings. Fortune smiles upon you, my friend, for this is not an answering machine.... it is reality. Speak_."

PJ grinned. "I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees."

Snaps laughed. _"Well, hey there, Papa Dog! What's brewin'?"_

"Well, first of all, Max is going someplace with his girlfriend day after tomorrow, and I don't think he'd mind if it were a double." He said hesitantly. 

_"Ohhhh, sounds right up my alley._" She said. PJ sighed contentedly - he could hear her smile. "_And second of all?"_

"His Royal Lowness is staying with Max." PJ said quickly, before he could change his mind.

Silence ensued on the other end of the line for a moment. _"Wait. Next door to you?"_

"Yeah."

Snaps sighed. _"Don't let him drag your karma down with him. That is the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone. Just keep your eyes out. He's a ..."_ She paused, then rephrased, _"He's trouble, ok, Papa Dog? You watch your back."_

"I will. Thanks." He smiled. "Hey --"

"_What is -for horses, better for cows, Alex_." She said wryly. "_Yes?_"

PJ laughed. "I love you." He said quietly.

"_Well, you know what they say. What you give, you get back."_

"See you Friday, then? One?"

_"I'll be there. Take care, PJ."_

"I will, uh...." He blinked. "You never told any of us your real name."

_"Please,"_ She groaned. _"Snaps will do just fine for that."_

PJ chuckled. "Boy don't I know the feeling. See you then, my little Java Bean."

_"Later."_

PJ sighed as he hung up the phone. _I needed that_. He smiled, then headed back downstairs to dinner.

Max grinned as he unwrapped a blank tape and put it in his tape recorder, setting the parameters on the stereo before flopping down on his bed and picking up a copy of Skateboarding Weekly. He'd gotten about halfway through the first article when there came a knock on his door. "Who iiiiisss iiiiiiit?" He sang out pleasantly. _Oh this is gonna ROCK..._

A heavy sigh issued from behind the door. "Bradley." He answered heavily. _Oh, I should have been a PA major!_

Max blinked at the tone of his voice, then smirked as he hit record on the stereo. "Come on in." He said nonchalantly. The door creaked open slightly, and Bradley poked his head in, looking around cautiously. "Well?"

He sighed again, stepping into the room as he scratched nervously at the back of his neck. "This is a, uh, nice room you've got here." He said hesitantly.

"Thanks. Look, I know what you're here to say, so say it and then get out of my room, okay?" Max ventured.

_Why that little sonnofa ---_ Bradley closed his eyes and let his anger simmer down before responding contritely, "Very well, then. Though I'd been hoping...." He sighed. "But, no... I was never meant for such wishful thoughts..."

Max raised an eyebrow as he got to his feet. What does he think he's doing?! "Whatever, Brad. Spit it out."

Bradley leant on Max's shoulder, adapting what he hoped was a pitiful, penitant look. "Max, Max, Max." He hung his head. "I am deeeeply, greviously sorry for the things that I have said about your father. He is a very ... special ... individual, and I mean that in the most favorable light possible, my friend. As for you, I should have known I was crossing a line and kept my mouth shut."

Max fixed Bradley with a look of disgust. "You got that right."

"But as you know, due to extraneous circumstances, I'm really not quite myself lately." He squinted his eyes ever so slightly, feigning the verge of tears. "After all," he choked, "it's not every day one ... loses ... everything one believed to be true..." With a deep breath, Bradley closed his eyes, resting his head on Max's shoulder. "Please, Max. Try to understand..." He looked straight up at Max, catching his eyes at just that right moment, when his suspicion wavered. Sensing a possible clinch, Bradley lowered his voice to the most humbling, guilt-trip-inducing tone he could muster. "What if you lost your father, Max?"

Max opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, looking slowly at Bradley. _Two seconds ago I wanted to shove this creep off my shoulder. But ... he's really got a point. Maybe Peg's right...._ He took a deep breath and swallowed his pride. "Bradley ...." He removed the cardigan-clad arm from his shoulder with more civility than originally planned. "It.... it's okay." 

Bradley bit his tongue fiercely to keep from smiling triumphantly, and also to bring just a few teardrops glittering to his eyes. "Thank you, Max." He whispered. "I ... I won't forget this."

"I won't let you." Max said, a slight edge to his voice. "But, well ... there's something I wanted to give you." He opened one of his drawers and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for, lifting it out solemnly. 

Bradley's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the blue-and-yellow jersey, and he wiped his eyes on his sleeve, covering his face for a fraction of an instant and allowing himself an indulgent smirk. "Isn't that your jersey, Max?"

"My spare." He nodded. "You have a helmet, right?"

"Well, yes, but...." _YES, I'm wearing him down..... this is excellent...._ "What are you trying to say, Max?"

Max managed a small smile. "I think ... you should be part of the team. Just while you're here." He blurted. That wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be.

Bradley's eyes lit up. "Really??" He gasped. "You mean it?" Max nodded, then yelped as Bradley hugged him fiercely. "Thank you!!!!" He released Max, who brushed reflexively at his shirt. _I feel the same way. Goof germs! Ugh.... but as long as the effect is attained..._

Max coughed, handing Bradley the jersey. "No problem. We have practice tomorrow at two."

Bradley frowned. "Oh, wait - I have to work tomorrow."

"Hmm, Mr. P might not be willing to let you off. But it's too late to reschedule now, I already called Bobby." _Aw shucks, eh Brad? Geez - Peg really has him whipped. I gotta thank her for that._

Bradley sighed. "Oh well. I'll see what comes of it." He headed for the door, clutching the shirt like treasure. "Thank you, Max. This ... really means a lot to me." With that, he closed the door behind him and retreated to his room, shutting himself in and burying his face in his pillow so Max couldn't hear his laughter.

Back in his room, Max shut off the tape player and took out the cassette. He looked at it dubiously. _It's funny. For the first couple minutes there it sounded like he was stringing me along. But... then, that comment about his father ... _He heaved a sigh. _My head hurts._ Setting the tape on top of his dresser, Max wriggled out of his shirt and climbed into bed. 

_"Brad?"_

_Bradley sat up to the sound of that old familiar voice, finding himself slumped over a table in the library of Cuillere Academy, staring into those violet eyes framed by pale blonde ringlets. "Ginny..." He muttered groggily. "I fall asleep again?"_

_"Yeah." She giggled, smoothing out his mussed bangs and closing her notebook. "Hey - you wanna go see a movie tonight, ditch the study group?"_

_He straightened his posture and slipped a hand around her waist. "I'd love to, Gin. We're gonna sit in the back row, right?" The senior gave her a smirk, complete with that raised eyebrow no Cuillere girl had ever been able to resist. _

_"Well ..." She twirled a finger in her hair. "I dunno, I mean, you're leaving for college and ... I dunno." She pouted, sticking out one full red lip. "I hate being a sophomore and... well ... you know..."_

_Bradley nodded. "It's ok, Ginny. We'll keep in touch."_

_Ginny blew a contemplative bubble with her gum, then nodded. "Good... you wanna know what I love about you, Brad?" _

_He smiled. "What?"_

_"You're not like the guys in my class. You're a senior - you're so sophisticated ... and considerate ... and sweet ... and cute ..."_

_Bradley smirked, pulling her a bit closer. "That's all?"_

_She laughed musically as she flopped into his lap, a notebook falling open on the floor. "Oops... my Lit homework!"_

_He picked the book up, glancing at the page. "Slam poetry? What's this?"_

_"It's when you take random lines from books and stuff and make it into a poem, you know."_

_He wrinkled his nose. "Weird...."_

_"Well, I sorta like it...." She shrugged. "But I'm definately gonna be a business major. So we can work together." _

_"That'd be cool." He grinned crookedly, as the bell rang._

Bradley jolted from his sleep, slamming on the snooze button by his bed. _Those were the days... _he thought sleepily, sliding out of bed and throwing his khakis on over his boxers, hopping over to the bureau to fish out his sweater. _Good ol' Ginny Browning. But not anymore... _His expression soured, train of thought interrupted as someone hammered on his door.

"Braaaaadleeeey..." Goofy called out. "You want some breakyfast afore I drive ya t' Pete's?" He squirmed into his sweater. "No!"

"Ya gotta eat."

"No I don't." He muttered, yanking on his sneakers and tossing his new jersey into his backpack, along with his pads and helmet. "I'm boarding over to the car lot, anyway!" He tucked his board under an arm and slung his rollerblades over his shoulder, then threw the door open, pushing past Goofy and sliding down the banister of the staircase. With a sneer, he pushed the door open and threw down his skateboard, putting as much sidewalk between himself and the house as he could as he tried to banish Ginny's face from his mind. 

Bradley made his way down the street, humming an old eighties tune to himself as he slid past old haunts and pizza parlors, past the park and the library until he finally came to Pete's Used Cars, skidding to a halt just outside the doorway of the office. "Hey Mr. P... reporting for duty." He called out, kicking his board up into his hands and slinging his backpack into the corner. 

Pete looked up from his paperwork and managed a grunt.

"Uh, yeah." He chuckled. "What do you need me to do?"

He closed the ledger and eyed Bradley, drumming his fingers on the desk. "Y'kin fill th' water cooler an' rig up th' fan. It's hotter'n Hades in here and I'm sweatin' like a stuck pig." Pete contemplated for a moment, then added, "Then rig the oil in the cars. All of em."

Bradley winced slightly. "Suuure thing..." He smiled, hefting the jug of the water cooler in his hands and carting it over to the sink. _Two o'clock better come fast..._

__

Bobby Zimmeruski sat on the grass, tightening the wheels of his bike as Max worked the half-pipe of the town park and PJ inspected the contents of the picnic lunch Peg had sent with him. "So, Max. If Bradley Underbite's part of the team now, why're we startin' so early without him, huh?"

"So we can learn new moves without him knowing and snitching to the Gammas." Max shook his head. "We can't exactly be expected to play fair with him after what he did to us, can we?"

"I dunno, man." Bobby glanced at the portable tape deck sitting on the picnic table, wandered over, and hit Play. 

_"It's not every day one ... loses ... everything one believed to be true..." _

"That's deep stuff for someone who's supposed to be BSing his way through an apology."

PJ scoffed, tossing a bag of potato chips onto the table. "Bobby ... Bradley BSes his way through everything! This is just a safeguard."

"Can we NOT talk about Bradley for once?" Max sighed, grinding to a halt and sitting on the edge of the halfpipe. "I'd rather concentrate on my date."

"Du-u-uuuude." Bobby smiled, leaning on the picnic table. "You mind if I invite Stacey along, bro?"

Max shrugged. "PJ's bringing Snaps along. I don't see why not."

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Bobby cheered, doing a brief dance move before spying a small container in the cooler. "PJ. Dude. Buddy. Is that for me?"

PJ pulled out the can of Cheddar Easy Cheese and smirked. "Maaaybe."

"Aw come on."

PJ laughed, then tossed the cheese to Bobby. "You know we don't eat that stuff. All yours, Bobby."

"Awriiiiight." He popped open the can and was about to chow down when Max grabbed his wrist. "Hey..."

"Skate first, scarf later, guys. We gotta get some new moves down before His Bradleyness gets here."

"Right." Bobby nodded seriously, setting the cheese down on the table. "So, like, Max. Now that Bradley's on the team, we'd be one away from being able to enter the Winter X Games... and I know you kill on a ski jump, dude."

Max nodded. "We'd need a skater, though, and as good as I am on blades, skates just aren't my thing. And I doubt Bradley would go for it. He seems more of a slalom type or something. All shifty."

PJ laughed. "Yeah, really. I'd board...."

Bobby gave him a high-five. "You and me, PJ. But figure skating. Man.... I don't think any of us is that ..."

Max blinked. "Wait a second guys. I gotta idea. What about ... what about Roxanne? Think she'd wanna do it?"

Bobby's eyes lit up. "Duuuuude. That would seriously rock."

"I'll ask her, then... " Max nodded decisively. "Come on. Let's try the cross move. I know this isn't a zipper, but we should do what we can with it. I know that was the Gammas' strong point last year, and even without Brad, they might be able to beat us at it if we don't practice."

"Do it to it." PJ nodded, taking a swig of water before pulling on his skates. As he headed for the halfpipe, he chuckled to himself.

"Share the joke, bro?" Bobby asked.

"I was just wondering how Bradley's faring with my dad...." PJ smirked.

Pete munched on a candy bar from the half-empty vending machine as he watched Bradley lift the hood on his twentieth car, a beat-up red sedan. "That's it, kid. Good old hard work."

Bradley muttered an obscenity under his breath, then unscrewed the oil valve with his blackened hands._ I can't believe this. I do the work and he sits there and stuffs his fat face. .... But it's money. And the more of it I get, the farther I get from those GOOFS. They all think they can turn me around into some goody-goody person who'll help them and .... ugh. I'm me. I'm not the big cheating, scamming, bribing idiot they think I am. Sure, I do ... things ... to get ahead sometimes, but only in sports._ He sighed, remembering his father's lectures. _"You've got to have one thing you're good at, son, and don't let anyone convince you you aren't number one at it. The rest ... do what you can."_ It was in the pursuit and the name of that number one that they had learned his bad side ... and that he had lost so much. But still, he stuck to his guns, and he would continue to until that coveted numeral was his again. 

With a determined squaring of his shoulders, he quickly poured a cup of sawdust into the oil, closed the cap, shut the hood, and went to the next car.

Snaps sighed as she leant over her double mocha latte, poking at the cinnamon curls with her stirrer. "So you're going away tomorrow too?"

Her roommate nodded. "I'm going on a date with my boyfriend - we're going to the movies."

"Huh, me too." Snaps shrugged. "Who's your guy?"

Stacey popped out her retainer, took a swig of her chai, then replied, "Robert Zimmeruski."

Snaps nearly spit her coffee back into her mug. "Bobby Zimmeruski? As in, Mr. Cheesa?"

"Yep. Isn't he great?"

Snaps laughed. "You're kidding. He's coming with Papa Dog and I. ... So's Max and his girl."

Stacey's eyes lit up. "Group date! Oh, how extreme is that?? I can't wait to see Roxanne again!" She grinned. "You'll love Roxanne. She's terrific. What an artist, too! She went off to be an art major and surprised just about everybody. I mean, talk about hidden talent! She does these portraits that just - ooh! And her pastel work, wow. And like ---"

Snaps put her hand over Stacey's mouth. "I get the picture, partner. ... I can't wait."

Goofy beeped the horn in a "shave-and-a-haircut" pattern as he pulled into Pete's car lot. "Hey, Braaaaadley!!! Ready tuh go?"

Bradley finished rigging the last oil valve, closed the hood, and wiped his hands off on the blackened dish towel he'd been using. "Am I ever." He muttered, grabbing his skateboard and backpack. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Pete."

"Oh, s'Saturday tomorrow, no work. Big cookout. Ever'body comin'." Pete smiled, waxing off a beat-up Studebaker. 

"Can I bring Sylvia?" Goofy asked.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ... surewhynot." Pete grumbled. "I'll see ya, Uppercrust. Ya did good work today."

Bradley smiled as he slid into the backseat of Goofy's car. "Thanks, Mr. P. See ya."

"So what'ja do today, Bradley?" Goofy asked amiably.

"Uh -- I fixed cars." Bradley replied bluntly, staring out the window.

"That sounds fun! Hey, the boys are almost done practicin' but I figgered I'd drop ya off anyway."

_They got an early start WITHOUT me?? I should have known_. "Thanks."

"You okay, Bradley?"

"Fine." He said through clenched teeth. 

"Well that's good. Say, you wouldn't feel up ta helpin' me out with th' house work while Max goes on his date, wouldja?"

_Max? Date? .... I wouldn't miss that for the world_. "No thanks, Mr. Goof, I have to take care of a few things... where's he going?"

"Oh, to th' movies with his girl." Goofy smiled. "They're gonna go see some new thing with ELizabeth whatsherface."

"Elizabeth Furley?"

"That sounds right."

_I'm definately not missing this_. "Cool. I'll have to check it out when it gets to video or something." Bradley said noncommittally, as they pulled into the park. "Thanks for the ride - I'll board back." He managed a small wave, then headed over towards the green. _An Elizabeth Furley movie *and* the chance to ruin something for Max. Bradley, you're going to have one busy weekend. _He tried his best to hide his smirk as he approached the team. "Hey guys!" He waved, putting on his most congenial smile.

"Hey, Brad." Max replied, kicking up his board. "We were just working on the quarter pipe moves... any suggestions?"

"Well ..."

Everyone on Team 99 braced for a snide remark.

"Have you tried the halfpipe flip? Only, like this? ... Hang on." He strapped on his pads and helmet, then proceeded to execute a move that was usually only seen - and done - on a halfpipe. 

"Holy cheese fondue." Bobby gaped. "How'd you do that, bro?"

"Easy. Watch...." The three of them watched intently as Bradley repeated the move several times, explaining the execution between tries. "It's easy, you just have to keep moving, and keep your ankles loose when you turn, so you can flip quick enough. .... Here, Max. You try." He slid off the quarterpipe and leant against the picnic table to watch. "Okay, that's good --- keep your toes in -- yeah! You got it!!" He grinned. "That was a 10, Max." As Max slid onto the grass, Bradley held out a hand for a high-five, and Max took it, hesitantly. 

"Wow, Max! That was awesome!" PJ gushed. "I bet we could win the town contest with that!"

"Now, the fun part is when you get a team of four on a zipper pipe and they're all doing it. That looks awesome." Bradley smiled. "I mean, imagine the choreography, boys!" He spread his hands wide, as if setting the scene. 

"Whoa." Bobby said, staring out into space. "Total Broadway... like one of those water ballets on boards."

"Yup." Bradley nodded, pleased with himself. _I'll get them to the top, of course. But then.... _

"Look, Max, we gotta get goin, dinner's gonna be ready." PJ pointed to the clock in the center of the park. 

"Great, I'm starved." Max kicked up his board and started for the sidewalk.

"Hey guys, I'll see ya tomorrow, ok?" Bobby grinned, giving them both the thumbs-up. 

"Come to the cookout too, huh?" PJ nodded, attatching the picnic basket to the back of his bike. "Riiiiight! I'm there! See ya!"

Bradley started to skate after Max, pulling up beside him. "You guys wanna practice again tomorrow morning?"

"No thanks - we're doing something tomorrow." Max replied, skating ahead of him. "Bye, Brad."

_Why that ...!! But, no. Tomorrow, they'll learn not to mess around with the Number One_. With that, Bradley decided to skate over to the cafe and grab himself a Mocha Berry Latte before heading back to the house. He figured that after such a hard day's planning, he deserved a reward. 

Roxanne tightened her scrunchie as she clutched her sketchbook to her chest, waiting by the ticket booth of the Spoonerville Roxy. After scanning the streets, she leant against a wall and opened the book, then pulled a pencil from behind her ear. Paying no heed to the small tendrils of hair she'd dislodged, dangling near her eyes, she began to doodle. _First the circle for the head, then the nose, then the eyes. I miss those eyes.... _She smiled wistfully, then freely sketched in some hair. "There." She said to herself, holding the sketch she'd created of Max out at elbow length. "I'm sure he's changed, but ..."

"ROXANNE!!!"

She whipped her head upward, bangs flipping out of her wide eyes. "STACEY!!!" She set the sketchbook down on a nearby bench and ran towards her friend, attacking her in a massive hug. "What're you doing here??? I miss you so much!!"

"I missed you too!" Stacey gushed, giving Roxanne a squeeze before stepping back. "You look great!"

"So do you - wow, finally got the braces off, huh? Awesome!" Roxanne grinned, then caught sight of the figure in black lagging behind her old highschool chum. "Who's your friend?"

"This is my roommate, Gi --" She paused, catching herself. "Snaps."

Snaps smiled. "A fellow creator. Cool." She shook Roxanne's hand calmly. "Mind if I leaf your leaves?"

"Huh?"

"Can she look at your sketches?" Stacey translated.

"Sure!" Roxanne smiled, handing her the book. 

"She's a little ... unique." Stacey whispered, "But she's wicked nice. We're meeting the guys for _Enchanted_."

"You're seeing that too? ... Who're you seeing it with?"

"I thought you knew - PJ and Bobby!" Stacey grinned.

Roxanne let out an overjoyed shriek and bounced up and down on her toes happily. "This is just awesome! The whole crew, together again! ... I can't believe it's only been a year..." 

Stacey paused, catching sight of someone over Roxanne's shoulder. "Oooh." She clicked her tongue appreciatively. "Did you see that?"

"I'm taken, but I'll bite..." Roxanne looked discreetly over her shoulder. "Where?"

"Ticket counter - the one with the skateboard." Stacey gushed. "Brown hair?"

"Ooh." Roxanne raised an eyebrow. "He is sorta cute. .... Max is cuter."

"Hey, Snaps! Come get a look at this!" Stacey called.

Bradley and Snaps whirled around at the same time. In the instant that they caught sight of each other, they both turned away just as quickly.

"You girls must be denser than a Coleridge stanza." Snaps hissed. "That's the enemy!"

"That's .... Bradley Uppercrust III?" Stacey blinked, lifting up her glasses to rub her eyes. "Well you didn't say he was cute. You coulda warned me!"

In line, Bradley nearly dropped his skateboard, gulping. _Not HER!!!_ He moaned inwardly. _This is just teriffic.... _

"STA-CEYYYYY!!! What's UP, chica?" Bobby called out as he skidded to a halt on his rollerblades.

_Okay. Maybe it isn't so bad._ Bradley smirked, edging to the other side of the ticket booth._ The victims are starting to arrive._

"Bobby!!!!" Stacey pounced on her beau, sending him swerving off balance and crashing into a cardboard display for the latest kids' movie. "Oops. .... Are you okay?"

"Heyyy, no sweat." He pulled off his skates and stood, making his way to a bench before taking off his backpack and exchanging blades for sneakers. "How ya be-en?"

"Great - you should meet my roommate." Stacey paused. "No wait, you have met my roommate, heven't you. Ohmygosh, I guess I'm just sooooo incredibly happy that we're all going to be hanging out together that I'm forgetting things!" She threw her arms around him. "I can't belieeeeve I never bumped into you - I thought you were going to the Tech!"

"Yeah, heh heh. Weird." Bobby smiled, detatching her and fishing out their ticket money, as Max and PJ arrived.

"Mr. Peter J." Snaps smiled, as PJ chained his bike to the rack outside and straightened his beret. "And has life been gracious and appreciative of my favorite bohemian buddha boy?"

PJ smiled, as Snaps planted a kiss on his cheek. "S'pretty good. I mean ... the team and all ... we're doing well. You'll be attending the barbecue, right?"

She chuckled. "Of course. Save me a plate of macaroni salad."

"Wow." Roxanne said hesitantly, tracing her toe along the carpet of the theater. "You guys ... you've really changed. 'Specially PJ. I mean .... " She chuckled. "Wow."

Max smiled. "Yeah ... college. .... You're looking ... pretty good, too." He choked.

"Um .. thanks." Roxanne tightened her scrunchie as Max handed her a cloth lily. "For me?"

"I didn't trust myself with any real ones." He chuckled. "Knowing Dad and plants, I was thinking it might run in the family. You know?"

Roxanne giggled, then tucked the flower into one of the pockets of her purse. "I'm sure you'd do a great job. ... How is your dad, anyway?"

"He's ... he's good." Max smiled. "He's actually, um ... " He managed a laugh. "Dating someone."

"Really! That's wonderful! Who?"

"The college librarian."

Roxanne smiled. "That's sweet. Will I get to meet her at this picnic of yours?"

"Yup." Max grinned. Then his grin fell as he remembered their other guest. "Um ... you get to meet Bradley, too."

"Bradley?" 

Everyone froze.

"Oh, no. Maximillian, don't tell me that grey cloud is bringing his rain to our picnic parade." Snaps frowned, clucking disapprovingly. 

"Well ..." Max winced. "He is staying with us because of this whole mess with his family or something and ..." He groaned, then kicked at the ticket booth in frustration. "Just for ONCE," he snarled, "I'd like to do SOMETHING without hearing Braaaaaadley this, and Braaaaaaadley that!!!! Can we just ... UGH! Can we just go see the movie, huh?? PLEASE?"

"Dude." Bobby said quietly, paying for their tickets. "Major stressage, bro."

"Sorry." Max sighed. "I just ... I'm sick of it. Come on."

Bradley smirked, then slid into line behind them. By the time they were in the theatre, he had managed to strategically place himself in the seat behind Roxanne. _Time to have some fun_.

About fifteen minutes into the movie, Bradley turned his attention away from Elizabeth Furley and the screen, and looked over at Roxanne and Max. Each was watching the movie, oblivious of one another at the moment. _Perfect_, Bradley smirked, sinking down as low as he could in his seat and letting his foot stretch down under the row in front of him. After a moment, his sneaker brushed up against Roxanne's ankle and he grinned, moving his toe up and down her calf. 

"Max!" Roxanne hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"

Max blinked. "Huh? What, nothing, I'm watching the movie!" 

"Nothing?? Then what was that I just ..." She sighed, then went back to watching the movie. Bradley waited until he thought she'd calmed down, then repeated the trick. "Max!!!!"

"Whaaaat?"

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?" He winced.

"You keep doing this weird thing to my leg, over here!" Roxanne snapped. 

"Hey, dudes, can ya keep it down, this is a good part." Bobby shushed.

"Sorry, Bobbo. .... Roxanne, I swear, I'm not doing anything!"

"Oh really!" She frowned. 

"Roxanne!"

Snaps frowned at PJ. "I'm sensing some major bad karma." She whispered.

_Okay, ladies and gentlemen, my work here is officially done. They'll be at each other's throats in minutes, and I don't want to be around then .... might get seen._ Smirking, Bradley slunk towards the back of the theatre, snagging the extra bag of popcorn PJ had set at the edge of the aisle, and found himself a seat to watch the remainder of the show - slipping out during the credit bloopers in order to get back before the others.

"So, Bradley, how'd yer excursion go?" Goofy asked, as he and Sylvia helped set up a picnic table in the back yard.

"I scoped out some boards. Grabbed a cup of coffee. Not much." Bradley shrugged. "Hey Miss Marpole."

"Bradley." She smiled. "Want to go into the kitchen and help us get the dip ready? There should be a platter of vegetables on Peg's counter."

"Okay." He stifled a smirk, then headed into the kitchen. _Bet I could spice up this dip a little and nobody would notice_. He rummaged around in the cupboard, then extracted a tin of cayenne spices. Same color as paprika. _Nobody's gonna care until they're burning the roof of their mouth off._ He stifled a chuckle as he tapped a liberal amount of spices onto the vegetable dip.

"Braaaadley!" Peg crooned, gliding into the kitchen with a bag of potato chips. "You're helping! How sweet." She finished through gritted teeth. "Now what are you up to?"

"Up to, Missus P?" He smiled, hiding the tin behind his back. "Nuthin'."

"Give me that."

"Excuse moi?"

Peg glared at him, then dipped a finger into the dip and sniffed at it. After a moment, she smiled sweetly. "How nice of you to remember that Pete likes spicy food." She cooed, pinching his cheek viciously. "But nobody else around here can stand that cayenne pepper."

"Heh heh ... and here I thought it was paprika." He grinned, setting the tin down and edging towards the slider door.

"Suuuure." Peg leant forward, locking the door with one hand and pinning Bradley against the glass. "Now listen up, you little greaseball. I know what you're up to. I heard that tape of yours and I know bullcrap when I hear it. ... I would have thought those boys would recognize it by now, knowing Peter, but ..." She sighed. "Never mind that. You'd better not be pulling anything at those rehearsals, or I can pull a few strings at State and have you taken somewhere else, a shelter or something."

"A shelter?" He wrinkled his nose. "You can't do that to me. I'm 20 years old, lady."

"Then for goodness sakes, ACT LIKE IT!" She roared, inches from his face. 

"Besides," Bradley continued, unruffled, "a middle class housewife like you could never have enough pull at a college like that to do something of that magnitude."

Peg smiled. "You know Elmyra Willoughby?"

"That alumni who donates about ten thousand dollars a year? Yeah, I know her. Why?"

"We're like this." Peg crossed her fingers.

Bradley went white. "You ... you are not."

"Am so. Want to talk to here? Here, I've got her on speed dial. We play tennis on the weekends." Peg smiled maliciously, lowering her voice. "Now you behave and be good to Goofy and those boys, or I will make you RUE the day you ever came into our lives!!!! CLEAR?"

"As crystal." Bradley muttered, as Peg released the latch on the door and pushed it open, sending him sprawling out onto the lawn.

"_Won_derful." She giggled, tossing him the bag of chips. "And take these with you!"

Bradley sighed as he picked himself up, brushing grass off of his khakis. _It is gonna be one long summer._


End file.
